


Through the Eyes of Madness

by ScaryScarecrows



Series: The Autumn Effect [7]
Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Batman Begins - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 16,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScaryScarecrows/pseuds/ScaryScarecrows
Summary: Jonathan Crane. Esteemed doctor, head of Arkham Asylum...and criminally insane. Shame that no one else has figured out that last part, though...





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Old as all hell-'All Those Things You Fear' started as a flashback here-and I keep meaning to rewrite it, but I'm LAZY. One day, perhaps. Or perhaps not.

_"Wicked, wicked boy!"_

_"Granny, please…"_

**_"Jonathan!"_ **

He woke up flailing and unable to breathe. Where was he? Where was Granny? Why couldn't he see anything?

"Jonathan." That wasn't Granny. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? "Jonathan, it's okay. It's okay. Wake up."

His glasses were suddenly on his face and the room came into sharp focus. Blue ceiling, gray walls, and a copy of _The Nightmare_. He was in their apartment in Gotham.

"Jonathan?"

Kitty. She must have woken him up, unless it had been the other way around.

"What time is it?"

"A little after three." Great. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." He took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. "Sorry."

"Go back to sleep." She sounded groggy. "Night."

"Night."

He rolled over and buried his hands under the pillow to keep them warm. Three in the morning…lovely. He'd never get back to sleep now.

Well, he could try. He had nothing else to do, after all.

**_Well, Jonny-boy?_ **

_I'm trying to sleep, go away._

**_You're no fun._ **

_Shut up._

Scarecrow pouted but silenced. Jonathan Crane yawned and closed his eyes. With any luck, he would doze off by accident.

"Jonathan?" She wasn't sleeping, either? "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine. Go back to sleep."

She sighed and he heard her tug the blankets over her head. How she could sleep that way was a mystery to him.

Her breathing softened a few minutes later. At least one of them would be able to function in the morning. That was something.

He burrowed into his share of the covers and tried to drown out the sound of the rain. Morning couldn't come soon enough.


	2. Chapter Two

Kitty Richardson hated mornings.

She woke up to the smell of coffee and the dreaded words, "It's sunny today."

"I hate sunshine."

"Don't be so dramatic, Kitty." The drapes flew open and the sunshine in question hit her in the face. "Get up unless you want to be late."

He was the director, couldn't he have given her the night shift? Wait-no, no night shift. Someone had to deal with the relatives, and Jonathan was _not_ a people person.

"I thought it rained all the time here."

"There is no such thing as a constant downpour." he said smoothly. "Coffee's ready."

And it was sunny outside. Heaven preserve her.

She got out of bed anyway and shuffled out to get coffee. Ohh, it was too early to be productive.

Mm, coffee. Hopefully it would start to work before they got to Arkham.

"Kitty? Have you seen my gloves?"

"No!"

He huffed and a second later darted into the living room to dig through the couch cushions. She rolled her eyes and went to get dressed. And to close those drapes, of course.

They had come to Gotham for university-Jonathan to flee Georgia and Kitty because she had no reason to stay. Being the new girl in high school had not been good. Not to mention her peers did not approve of anyone who got close to Jonathan Crane. Selfishly, she was happy she didn't have to share him.

Now, years later, they were still here. Apart from the horrendous crime rate, it wasn't that bad.

Fine. It was that bad, but it had its perks. A good job. Most people didn't want to work at Arkham. Not that she could blame them, really-she enjoyed the job, most of the time, but sometimes…

"Kitty!" Now what? "Help!"

Help? With what?

The smell of burned toast hit her nostrils and she cringed. Jonathan had tried to use the toaster again. For all his intelligence, he had no business touching food-cooking items. He'd blown up their microwave once. Granted, it had been making a noise for a while before that.

"One of these days, you'll set the flat on fire."

He prodded the blackened squares with a plastic fork and gave her a guilty look.

"I don't know what I did."

"I don't know, either."

It was too late to make more toast, and the traffic was too terrible to stop and get something. Great.

"I don't know how you manage these people." Jonathan murmured. The mother of one of their patients had come in, demanding to know what progress had been done with her baby. It had not been pretty.

"Magic, love." She ruffled his hair and popped a pretzel into her mouth. "Are you okay?"

"Of course, why?"

She knew that voice. That was the let's-not-talk-about-it voice. Well, _fine_.

"No reason." she said lightly. "Come on, we have a meeting with Mr. Falcone in half an hour."

He scowled at his desk and Kitty rolled her eyes. He would just have to get over it-there was no other way for the research to continue. The original formula-consisting of, among other things, LSD-had not worked particularly well. The new one, the one made with the little blue flowers, was scarily effective. She almost had to feel sorry for the people on the receiving end.

Almost.

"I hate that man."

"He's an idiot."

"It's not that. He's been getting pushy."

What did he expect her to do, turn into an avenging angel?

"You're on your own." she told him. "The best I can do is stand there and scream."

"I appreciate your help." he said dryly. "Can't you poison him?"

She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. _Other_ people wouldn't have meant it, but _other_ people didn't have a…history.

"Why can't you do it?"

He dropped his head back and sighed. Kitty ate another pretzel and looked at the clock. Twenty minutes.

"I am going to get a coffee. Need anything?"

"Kill me now."

And he called her dramatic. Humph.

"Something legal, love."

"Antifreeze is legal."

This was hopeless. She left him to brood and went to get herself a mocha. Considering that Arkham was Hell's waiting room, they had good coffee. She was still spoiled from a trip to Seattle, though. One week had ruined coffee forever.

She'd barely returned to her office when the phone rang. Maybe Falcone was canceling. She could always hope.

"Arkham Asylum."

"I need an appointment with Dr. Crane."

"I'm not the secretary, but I can put you through." Why did they always get the numbers mixed up?

"But the…oh! I'm sorry! Would you?"

Idiot. How hard was it to read a phone number?

"Sure." Just keep smiling. "One minute."

She had half a mind to put her straight through to Jonathan, just to see what would happen, but she didn't. He hated talking on the phone.

Ten minutes. Ten minutes before Falcone showed up. She should have put some alcohol in the coffee.

The little buzzer on her desk went off. She hated that. Scarecrow adored it-ass-but she wished she could _accidentally_ drop a really big book on it.

"Yes, Dr. Crane?"

"We have a visitor."

Great. Of course traffic would be good today. Falcone probably had a little remote to change the traffic lights.

"Be right over."

She nearly forgot her coffee.

Falcone was not there yet, but Jonathan was happy to take a sip of her coffee. Prat. He could get his own coffee instead of always taking hers.

"Visitor?"

"I didn't say he was in here." Dammit. "He's in the lobby. I told Jane to stall him."

Somebody was feeling rebellious. Scarecrow was probably responsible for that.

"No wonder we have to keep hiring secretaries."

He shrugged and grimaced at her paper cup.

"What is that?"

"A mocha."

"Oh." He toyed with a rubber band for a minute before suddenly shoving it into the desk drawer. "No wonder it tasted off."

She rolled her eyes at him and settled into the cushy chair. Falcone would be here in less than two minutes, she just knew it.

Jonathan was toying with his case, running his fingers over the latches.

"Don't."

"I won't."

He was still petting the latches when the door opened. Oh, what fun.

"Doctor Crane. Miss Richardson."

She hated his voice. It just rubbed her the wrong way. All the same, she had to be nice. What a shame.

"Mr. Falcone."

"Everything's on time."

"Good."

The man sat down and cracked his neck. What a horrid sound. She took another sip of her coffee and wished he would go away. Why did he always have to be here? Surely a brief telephone conversation would suffice.

"I need something from ya, doc."

If he didn't watch it, he was going to bring out Scarecrow.

"What."

"One of my boys was arrested the other day. Zsasz. I want him moved here."

"Why."

"Better than prison, doc."

Oh, if he only knew…

"I'll see about it."

"You'll do it."

She _really_ didn't want to deal with Scarecrow right now. Couldn't he just shut up? Was that so much to ask for?

"We'll see. I do have appointments, so…"

"See ya, doc. Don't forget."

He left and Jonathan sighed.

"I really hate that man."


	3. Chapter Three

**_Yes. Scream. Come on, sweetheart, scream your little lungs out._ **

It wasn't as though she had a choice. She was strapped to an old mortuary table with a double of dose of their toxin in her veins. Scarecrow rubbed his hands together and grinned behind the mask.

_You've had your fun. Now move over so I can work._

**_Fine, fine. Spoilsport._ **

Jonathan rolled his eyes and tugged the mask off. Wordless screaming wouldn't answer his questions, entertaining as it may have been.

"What do you see?"

She had her eyes squeezed shut and she refused to answer him. God, why did these people never cooperate?

**_I'll get it out of her, Jonny-boy!_ **

_You'll break her neck. No._

"What do you see?" he asked again, kneeling down next to the table. "Tell me and it will all go away."

**_You magnificent bastard, Jon!_ **

_Thank you. I think._

She whimpered. For a minute he was tempted to turn her over to Scarecrow out of frustration, but then she answered him.

"Teeth! They're biting me, they're trying to get inside me!"

Oh. He had yet to run across that particular hallucination. How interesting.

**_Give her a great, big toothy grin! It'll be fun!_ **

_I have to get her vitals again before it wears off. Then I have to put her back. Then we're going home._

**_Why?_ **

_Headache._

**_Wuss._ **

Wuss or not, he'd been feeling off for the last two days. It was probably lack of sleep.

Her heart rate was starting to slow. Good.

He finished cleaning up while the toxin ran its course-it wasn't quite permanent, something he had to work on-and then went to release her. She was nearly catatonic and he had to drag her to the elevator. Perhaps there was something to be said for weight lifting.

**_Good luck._ **

_You could have helped._

**_I don't have your self-control._ **

Well, at least he admitted it.

* * *

"You are late."

"Work."

"Someone's going to notice, you know."

"No they won't. Or they won't care."

"Still."

He shrugged and folded his hands behind his head.

"They won't notice."

She frowned at him. Fine. She could frown, but he was right. Besides, he wasn't in the mood for an argument. His head was really starting to hurt.

"Just don't dig your own grave, love, that's all I'm saying." She took her robe off and dropped it over the chair in the corner. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful."

She didn't look like she bought it.

**_Too bad._ **

_For once, you have a point._

Kitty flopped down on the bed and crossed her arms over her eyes.

"Are you feeling okay?"

How did she always know? It was a wonder he tried to hide anything from her.

"Yes."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. It's just a headache."

"Stress."

"Mm."

He reached over to click off the lamp on his nightstand. Normally he would have read for a while, but he was too tired tonight. Besides, reading would only worsen his headache.

**_God, you're a wuss. It's not that bad._ **

_But it hurts, so shut up and let me sleep._

**_Night, kiddo._ **

* * *

Oww. Even Scarecrow admitted that this _really_ hurt.

Jonathan was trying very hard not to move. He would have taken something, but the Advil was all the way over there. Blinking hurt! He had never known blinking to hurt before.

**_God, quit the observations and make it stop!_ **

That didn't help.

All right. He would get up and make his way over to the dresser. It was five measly steps, how hard could it be?

**_We can do it!_ **

An image of Rosie the Riveter flashed behind his eyelids. How was that helpful?

Okay. Five steps. Five little steps to relief.

Sitting up was bad, but getting up made his stomach twist in a very unpleasant way.

_I'm gonna be sick._

**_We're_ ** **_gonna be sick._ **

He found himself kneeling in front of the toilet, spitting out bile. His head spiked and he wondered what was wrong with him. What time was it?

"Jonathan?"

**_Busted._ **

She startled him when she appeared next to him. At least she left the light off.

"Come on, love, stand up."

Standing made him nauseous again.

"S-sorry…"

"Rinse your mouth out and go back to bed." she said softly. "I told you to stop staying late."

Then she was gone and he was left gripping the sink. His mouth tasted yellow.

**_No more weird stories before bed._ **

_It still tastes yellow._

He was sure the water he spat out was yellow, too, but he didn't turn the lights on to see. He just wanted to go back to bed. His headache had gone down to a dull, steady throb.

He'd been lying there for a few minutes when a cold rag settled over his eyes. What…Kitty.

"Go back to sleep. There's a water bottle by you if you need it."

No. He had no desire to put anything into his stomach right now.

"Thanks."

"No work tomorrow, and that's final."

Maybe she was right. But he couldn't take sick days…he'd worry in the morning. Maybe this would be gone by then.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone wanting the 'Japanese Clear Soup' recipe should get in touch with me. It's delicious and a great sinus-clearer when made with chili sauce.

Stomach flu. Someone-probably one of Falcone's goons-had given him the stomach flu. Idiots! Had they never heard of washing their hands? Really?

He had been planning on getting up and going to work anyway, but Kitty warned him that she could and would tie him down if he didn't stay home. He doubted she could, but he didn't really want to find out.

He was lying on the couch, watching _The Silence of the Lambs_ , when there was a knock on the door. He hadn't ordered anything lately. God, one of the neighbors had come over. He hated their neighbors, especially the ones in 1406. They were always doing things late at night.

Maybe he could ignore whoever it was. Surely they wouldn't stand there all day.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Okay, maybe they would.

He groaned and struggled up to pause his movie. What did they want with him?

It turned out to be their other neighbors, the quiet ones. They'd tried to be friendly early on. Was it worth opening the door?

"Doctor Crane? Are you okay?"

How did they know he was home?

**_Open the door. Otherwise they might call the police or something._ **

At least Granny's house had been in the middle of nowhere.

"May I help you?"

"Doctor Crane, hi." Oh, god, it was their college-age daughter. If it was one thing he wasn't in the mood for, it was a college student. "I didn't see you leave today, I thought something might be wrong?"

A _neighbor-watching_ college student? He hated people sometimes.

**_You hate them all the time._ **

_So do you._

**_Yeah, but I admit it._ **

"Nothing's wrong."

**_Can we gas her?_ **

_Technically, yes. Actually, no._

"Sorry to bother you…"

"It's quite all right." Slightly creepy, though… "Good morning."

He shut the door and retreated to the couch. Sometimes he wished he could have an apartment building all to himself.

He'd barely gotten comfortable again when the phone rang. If it was a telemarketer, he was going to hunt them down and use them as a test subject.

"Hello?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. If I don't eat anything, I'll be fine."

"There might be some chicken soup in the freezer."

No. That was not going to happen today.

"Okay."

"Go to sleep, yeah? Don't…do anything today."

"I won't."

"Good. Night, love."

He hung up and reached for the remote. Hopefully he could be left alone now. He waited a few minutes to make _sure_ that nothing else would happen, then pushed play.

"It rubs the lotion on its skin, or else it gets the hose again."

He loved that line. It was just so…terrible. God, he would have loved to get one of _those_ on his couch. Or his table.

**_Be quiet, I'm trying to watch._ **

He rolled his eyes and pulled the blanket up to his shoulders.

**_Isn't that Kitty's?_ **

_Be quiet, I'm trying to watch._

**_Someone's gonna be in trouble!_ **

_She'll never know._

Besides, it was warm and she wasn't here. If she'd been home he would have lain down across her lap. This was the next best thing.

**_God, you're a sap._ **

_Shut up, Scarecrow._

The straw man chuckled and Jonathan felt him settling down. He tucked his hands under the pillow and closed his eyes.

* * *

Kitty considered it a success when she got in without knocking anything over. Not bad, considering she had an armful of groceries.

Jonathan was curled up on the couch, wrapped in her fluffy blanket. Fine. He could use it this _one_ time. What had he been watching… _Scooby Doo_. She knew it! He always watched _Scooby Doo_ when he was sick. She wouldn't wake him just yet. Now she could enjoy her shower without Scarecrow coming in and taking all the hot water.

Ahh. Shower. No matter how clean Arkham was, she always left feeling grimy. It was probably the sickening characters they got from time to time. Croc was particularly bad. That thing _ate_ people! Who did that? Nutter.

Jonathan slept through the blow-dryer, too. Good. He hated taking sick days and she didn't like to deal with him when he had to have one. Besides, Rachel Dawes had called earlier. She hated that woman. Who did she think she was, the city's savior? Gotham was as corrupt as they came. Why couldn't she just accept that and move on? But noo, she had to be a busybody and stick her overly-large nose where it didn't belong. One of these days…

It was time to wake him. Hopefully she'd get Scarecrow, who would be in a better mood.

"Jonathan? Love? Wake up, it's time for supper."

He blinked and fumbled for his glasses. She gave him a few minutes to come to all the way before mentioning supper again.

"I can defrost the chicken noodle or I can make you Japanese clear soup."

"Japanese?"

"I got the ingredients for that."

He nodded and sat up. He was oddly well-behaved this evening. Maybe he was too sick to care about going in. She wouldn't mention Dawes tonight, then. If he went in tomorrow she'd bring it up.

"Ten minutes at the most." she called. "Just keep out of the way, I don't want this."

He shrugged. If he got her sick, she was going to kill him. Or at least make him miserable until she felt better.

Hm…it might be nice to have a butler. Could she get him to dress up?

It took fifteen minutes because the carrots refused to soften up. By the time she'd gone back in, he was sitting up, still wrapped in her blanket.

"Just a bit. And I left out the chili sauce this time."

"Thank you."

"So," she said, throwing her shoes off into the corner, "what did you do all day?"

"I think I fell asleep."

"Good. Eat that, take a shower, and go to bed."

"I've been in bed!"

"You've been on the couch."

He frowned and reached for the bowl. If he spilled anything on that blanket…

"Did anything happen at work?"

The Dawes information could wait.

"No."

"You wouldn't tell me anyway, would you?"

"No."

He was quiet after that.


	5. Chapter Five

She made him stay home. He wasn't sure how she'd managed it, but she had made staying home look like the better option. Now, at nine-fifteen, he was bored, still slightly queasy, and wondering _why_ he had stayed home.

**_You're whipped, that's why. Just admit it, it'll hurt less._ **

_You certainly didn't protest._

**_I'm lazy. I'm happy to stay home all day. Hey, we have our own laptop now, she can't see our search history…_ **

_No_ _._

He looked longingly towards his case. He could have made it through work today, as long as Dawes didn't drop in on him.

**_You could have thrown up on her._ **

_Have you no class?_

**_Nope._ **

It figured that he would get Scarecrow as an alternate personality. Some of his patients weren't even aware of their alters-why couldn't he have been one of them?

**_You'd wake up covered in blood and turn yourself in. What's the fun in that?_ **

What had he done to deserve this? He knew he should've gotten help when Scarecrow first showed up!

He amused himself by popping the batteries in and out of the remote a few times, but that got old quickly. It was a shame that Kitty wasn't here. His head still ached and he could have done with a massage.

He sighed and folded his arms over his face. He needed to see about Falcone's man…and send a report to Ra's al Ghul…ohh, his to-do list was starting to grow. He didn't know how many more tests he'd have to run to make this work.

His phone rang. No. Not today. Not tomorrow. If it was Dawes, he would not be held accountable for what happened. He could frame someone for murder as well as the next guy, but it took _work_.

"Hello?"

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Is everything going all right? No…mishaps?"

"Not a one."

"Good."

"I didn't want anything. No working, no terrorizing the neighbors, and for God's sakes, no spicy food."

"Fine, fine."

"Good. See you later."

She hung up and he flopped back on the couch.

* * *

He was startled out of his nap by the front door opening and closing. He'd locked it earlier, hadn't he? Not that he minded gassing an intruder or anything, but…

"Hey, love." Kitty said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Kitty was home already? What time was it?

She'd asked him something. Um…he felt okay. He wouldn't be eating much for the next day or two, but he was feeling better.

"I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

Why couldn't she just believe him?

"Yes."

She bent down and kissed his forehead.

"Your fever's gone…"

He felt like he was back in the high school nurse's office, minus the complaining and cheap perfume.

"Have you thrown up any more today?"

"No."

"You may go to work tomorrow, then. But no staying late."

Fine. But he had to at least argue a little.

"Kitty…"

"I mean it."

"Fine."

"I am going to take a shower." she said. "Alone. I mean it, Scarecrow, keep out. Or else."

**_I might like the 'or else'. Ask her what it is._ **

_No. The last time you took over, I had to explain why we had rope burns on our wrists. To her MOTHER, Scarecrow. Do you have any idea how awkward that was? 'I was trying an escape act I read about.' She didn't believe me, obviously._

Scarecrow cackled and Jonathan envisioned him rubbing his hands together.

**_Good times._ **

That was beside the point!

He stretched and got up just as the water went on.

**_Shall we?_ **

_I don't feel great, you know._

**_You're no fun at all._ **

Jonathan shook his head and got up to seek out a drink. He really wanted a cup of decaf, but he didn't think that would stay down. He settled on the much-hated Sprite. It was either that or tap water, and they had no ice.

Work…Falcone…ohh, tomorrow was going to be a busy day. Not to mention everyone would come in and fuss over him. God, he hated when they did that. He hated them all, really-they were so much like his high school classmates-but the fussing was the worst. He didn't really like it when Kitty fussed over him, but he'd learned to live with it.

He sighed and made his way to bed to pull out his clothes for tomorrow.

"Jonathan!"

What? He wasn't in her shower, why was she yelling at him?

"Yes, dear?"

"Don't be cheeky! Bring me a bar of soap, will you?"

Oh, that was an invitation.

**_Dibbs._ **

_No. I'm still queasy. Just give her the soap and shut up._

**_Make me._ **

Scarecrow wanted control, Jonathan could tell. Too bad. He was in charge here, and it was going to stay that way.


	6. Chapter Six

"Feeling better, Doctor Crane?"

And _that_ was why he hated taking a sick day. He always came back and was fussed over by everybody. Couldn't they just mind their own business? Was that so difficult?

"Yes, thank you."

Five people down, who knew how many to go? He leaned back in his chair, hoping nobody else came in. And then his phone rang.

"Jonathan Crane."

"How are ya, Doc?"

Oh, his _favorite_ person. What fun.

"Fine, thank you. What can I do for you?"

"It's about my boy Zsasz." Dammit. He'd forgotten all about Zsasz. "Think you could come in and chat with him?"

"I've been unwell recently." he said coldly. "I have a lot of work to catch up on."

"Just make sure you've seen him before your next shipment, Doc."

 _Click._ Jonathan took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. Sometimes he regretted getting into this mess. But only sometimes. It was all worth it when he watched someone screaming their heart out because of him.

**_Jonny, you bad boy._ **

_I haven't killed anyone yet._

**_True. Except for that overdose…_ **

_That was an accident. You kill on purpose._

**_Only twice! To save your ass, I might add._ **

_I don't need the reminder._

He turned to the stack of paperwork and sighed. Most of this could have been dealt with in his absence, why was he stuck with it?

"Hello, Doctor Crane."

Oh, he hated her. He didn't want her for a secretary, but her credentials were decent. Unfortunately, she liked him a bit more than she ought.

"Hello, Minnie."

"How are you feeling? We missed you."

Oh, he was sure she did.

"Better, thank you." If he mentioned that he was still queasy, she might fuss over him even more. "Did you need something?"

"Just wanted to see how you were feeling."

"Fine, thank you."

She left and he leaned back in his chair, sending quiet disdain towards everyone in the building.

**_May they all get struck with the flu._ **

_Except Kitty, because then we have to take care of her. Remember what happened last time?_

**_Maybe we shouldn't have tried to make toast in the oven._ **

Now. Onto the paperwork.

By the end of the day, Jonathan was feeling rather queasy again. Dinner was optional, in his opinion, but Kitty disagreed.

"Falcone called today."

"What now."

"Zsasz."

"Oh, great."

"I have to see him tomorrow. You're in charge until I get back."

"Make sure he doesn't have anything sharp near him."

Wasn't that the truth?

He lay back on the bed, watching her unbutton her shirt and take her jewelry off. He really wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. He'd heard nasty stories about Zsasz. He'd heard that every time he killed, he carved another tally mark into his skin.

Huh. Maybe he was crazy after all.

Kitty tossed her skirt off into the corner and wandered over to the dresser for her pajamas. Jonathan sighed and folded his hands behind his head. He must have drifted off, because he was startled awake by Kitty taking his glasses off.

"Come on, love, get under the covers."

Covers? What for?

"Jonathan."

Fine, fine.

There was a flicking noise and the room plunged into darkness. A minute later, she wound her arms around his neck and snuggled against his side.

"Night, love."

"Night."


	7. Chapter Seven

SwordStitcher- _We don't much care for him. **Especially after he tried to kill us.** Although I never would have guessed that he was frightened of Mary Poppins... **That was gold.**_

* * *

"I'm here to evaluate a Mr. Zsasz."

"Right this way, Doctor Crane."

**_If he puts one toe out of line, dibbs._ **

_If_ _you_ _put one toe out of line, I'll take the medication again._

**_Ooo, you drive a hard bargain, Jonny-boy._ **

_Is it a deal?_

**_Fine. But I don't like it._ **

It didn't matter if he liked it or not. Falcone wouldn't help him if Scarecrow landed them in prison. Not that he wanted to rely on his help, anyway.

Zsasz was well restrained, Jonathan was happy to see. His hands and ankles were cuffed to the chair, which was bolted to the floor. Good.

"Mr. Zsasz." He sat down on the other side of the table. "How are you this afternoon?"

"Hiya, doc." Lovely. He had the same annoying speech patterns Falcone did. The noise grated on his ears and it was an effort not to cringe. "I'm a little stiff, actually."

"I see."

"Can you do anything about that?"

"I'm sorry, no."

"No fun at all, are ya?"

**_Pleease?_ **

_No. Now be quiet._

"Mr. Zsasz, I'd like you to tell me when you started killing."

"Do flies count?"

Oh, it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Finally. Five minutes alone. He was sorely tempted to gas Zsasz upon his admission, if only to silence that annoying accent.

His alone time was cut short by his cell phone. He hated cell phones, really. Why did he have to be available all the time? Not to mention the rise of Text Speak. If he heard one more person say 'OMG'…

"Crane."

"Dawes is coming."

"She's coming now?"

"Yes, now. It's bloody outrageous, I've half a mind to remind her superiors that this is a hospital, not a library."

"What does she want now?"

"To discuss the Zsasz case, probably. She'll be here in twenty minutes."

"Fine."

He hung up and ran his hands through his hair. He _hated_ Rachel Dawes almost as much as he'd hated Matthew Sanchez back in high school. She was annoying-chatty and nosy-and she apparently found him suspicious.

Traffic was horrendous and he arrived at the same time she did. Damn.

"Miss Dawes." _Of all the young women that get kidnapped in this town, why can't you be among them?_ "You made good time."

"Doctor Crane." **_Somebody's feeling bitchy today._** "Is it true that you went to interview Victor Zsasz this afternoon?"

"It is."

"And your assessment?"

"It's a bit early to tell, Miss Dawes." As she should know by now. "My first impression was that he was as sane as you or I, but now I…I have to wonder." He forced a smile and felt his muscles protesting. "Step up to my office, if you like, and we can discuss this further."

**_Let me play with her, Jonny! Let me make her scream and cry like the other ones!_ **

_No. That's too dangerous._

"That would be fine."

As much as he hated to do it, he was going to have to ask Falcone to get rid of her. This was the second time she'd come up here with no notice, acting like Miss High-and-Mighty. Eventually she was going to catch on completely and make a mess.

**_Pleease…_ **

_No. As fun as that sounds, we're going to have to make look like an accident._

* * *

"Why can't _she_ be kidnapped?" Kitty complained. "Honestly, it's a miracle she hasn't pissed off someone important."

Jonathan had to agree. He wouldn't wish kidnapping on anybody but her, really. Well, maybe his secretary…

"Mm."

"Miss Richardson, please tell Doctor Crane that I'll be by in twenty minutes." Kitty mocked. "What does she think I am, your secretary?"

"Mm."

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Mm-hm." She took her hand out of his hair, much to his dismay, and tried to make him sit up. "What are you doing?"

"I'd like to go and brush my teeth. Sit up."

**_I was SLEEPING! Just ignore her, she'll get over it._ **

_For once, you have a good idea._

He rolled over and murmured something about it being early. Kitty shook him and eventually tugged him upright and propped him against the arm of the sofa. Jonathan had an image of a crying Scarecrow flash behind his eyelids.

"Kitty…"

"It might not hurt you to go to bed, too." she said. "Come on, love."

Oh, _fine_. But he was more comfortable on the couch.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Nolan's Zsasz has anything in common with his other incarnations, Rachel needs to shut up. Seriously, the whole tally-mark thing is not sane. Neither is turning your victims into an ugly, bloody doll. Makes you wonder what she thinks 'sane' is...

"In my opinion, Mr. Zsasz is as much a danger to himself as to others, and prison is probably not the best environment for his rehabilitation."

There. All done. And that was the _last_ of Falcone's pet morons he would be admitting.

"Doctor Crane?"

Scarecrow snarled and Jonathan stopped and took a deep breath. Why, oh why couldn't this woman wander into traffic? Was that so much to ask?

"Ah, Miss Dawes."

**_Pretty-please with a cherry on top?_ **

_If we weren't out in public, I'd say yes._

**_Dammit._ **

She'd been saying something about Zsasz. Probably complaining that he'd had the man moved to Arkham. One of these days she was going to get herself into trouble.

"I'd have hardly testified to that otherwise, would I, Miss Dawes?"

She frowned at him.

"This is the third of Carmine Falcone's men you've had declared insane and moved into your asylum."

Oh, look at that, she could count! Wasn't that nice?

"The work offered by organized crime must have an attraction to the insane."

Now would she shut up? He did have a job to get back to, after all.

When she didn't immediately answer, he started to walk away. He might be able to avoid lunch hour traffic.

"Or the corrupt!"

Oh, that little…that did it. The first chance he got, he was gassing her.

**_You've got a chance. She's right here._ **

_We are in PUBLIC! NO!_

**_Ask her out and gas her then._ **

_…that doesn't even deserve a response._

**_You just gave me one._ **

"Mr. Finch!" Her boss turned and gave him a quizzical look. "I think you should check with Miss Dawes here just what implications your office has authorized her to make. If any."

There. That should shut her up. She may have fancied herself Gotham's savior, but she had to pay the bills, too.

* * *

"She's getting far too nosy."

"You lost your temper with that little upstart?"

"It wasn't a screaming match."

"Now she'll be extra suspicious."

"That's not my problem. Either we shut her up, or Falcone does."

"I hate to say it, but Falcone will be less conspicuous."

He hated to agree with her, but she was right.

"Fine."

"I don't like him either, but we don't have a choice. If she has a nervous breakdown, people will notice."

Unfortunately. He'd have loved to see what she was afraid of, for his own amusement.

"Fine. Don't bother about Zsasz, by the way. He's in high security, for the protection of the staff."

As far as he was concerned, Zsasz had no business being anywhere without an armed guard. He had no intention of becoming another tally mark on the man's skin.

**_With your luck, your tally mark will be on the ass._ **

_Are you incapable of shutting up for two minutes? It's like living with a hyperactive six year-old!_

**_What? I'm just saying…_ **

_I won't have a tally mark, because I'm not that stupid. So knock it off._

He felt Scarecrow frown and nestle down in the dark corner of his mind. Jonathan had never been in there, even when Scarecrow was in control, but he'd caught glimpses of it. There were bones in there, bones and feathers and half-eaten rats.

"We'll meet with Falcone tomorrow. And make it somewhere nice-that prat can afford it."

So could they, but she had a point.

"Fine."

* * *

"Bruce Wayne's back, apparently."

"Really?" He took the paper and skimmed over it. "Seven years…he's probably an idiot."

"Oh?"

"You've met his type. They're all idiots."

He had a point, she supposed. Ah, well. She wouldn't have to deal with this Wayne very much, if at all.

"Give me that, I wasn't finished with it."

"May I have the crossword?"

"No. You had it last week."

"If I promise not to write in it, may I have it?"

She hated to surrender the crossword, but she was trying to read.

"Promise?"

"Mm-hm."

"Fine."

She handed it over and resumed skimming the headlines. There was never anything interesting in here anymore-just scandals or deaths. What about civil unrest in other countries? Typical media-selfish, shallow bastards.

The phone rang.

"Sometimes I hate technology." Jonathan murmured. "I really do."

He answered it anyway, but before he could get a word in that annoying voice came over the line.

"Doc!" Had that idiot never heard of indoor voices? One of these days… "Heard you left work early."

"People have been noticing. What do you want?"

"Think you can pencil me in for noon instead of one, Doc?" Why did he have to be so loud? The days of shouting down the telephone line were long over.

"Mr. Falcone…"

"I really need this favor, Doc."

That was it. If he brought Scarecrow out, that was his very own fault.

"Fine."

"Thanks. Night, Doc."

Jonathan hung up with a bit more force than was necessary.

"Sometimes I wish he'd have a heart attack. **_Or a mental breakdown_** …dammit."

"Hi, Scarecrow."

"I wish he wouldn't do that."

So did she, to be honest. She wasn't worried that Scarecrow would try to strangle her or anything, but she didn't like to be surprised by him.

"Mm."

He was quiet after that, occasionally muttering something to Scarecrow. It sounded like they were having an argument.

"What's he complaining about?"

"He's bored." He sighed and lay down on the couch, clutching the crossword. "He's bored and throwing a temper tantrum…yes, you are, don't deny it!" There was silence for a minute. "Sometimes I wonder if I should prescribe myself some antipsychotics."

She leaned over to look at the crossword.

"Eleven down is Seuss."

"Mm? Oh. So it is."

The rest of the night passed in silence.


	9. Chapter Nine

"No more favors. Someone's sniffing around."

**_That's the understatement of the century, Jonny._ **

_Scarecrow. I am in a business meeting. Shut up._

"Hey, I scratch your back, you scratch mine, Doc. I'm bringin' in the shipments."

_Greedy little…_

"We are paying you for that."

"Maybe money isn't as interestin' to me as favors."

He sighed and closed his eyes, listening to the clinking of forks around him. Kitty had been absolutely furious when something came up that kept her at Arkham. To be fair, they'd flipped a coin for it.

"I am more than aware that you are not intimidated by _me_ , Mr. Falcone, but you know who I'm working for, and when he gets here…"

"He…he's comin' to Gotham?"

_Oh, so he's hard of hearing!_

**_And he thinks you're a pussy. Not so far off, but…_ **

_Scarecrow, so help me…_

**_Oh, he'd be so shocked if we gassed him!_ **

_No._

"Yes he is. And when he gets here, he is _not_ going to want to hear that you have endangered our operation just to get your thugs out of a little jail time." There. That would teach him to talk down to Jonathan Crane.

**_And now I know what Kitty sees in you._ **

_For the last time…_

"Who is it?"

"There's a girl at the DA's office."

"Buy her off." came the prompt response. Jonathan was having trouble not rolling his eyes. Money wasn't the end-all solution. This wasn't algebra, for heaven's sake. Sometimes you actually had to think outside the box.

"Not this one."

"Idealist, huh?" To say the least. "I'll take care of her."

Good! And he didn't even have to get his hands dirty. If this idiot got himself caught, he was safe. Not even a speeding ticket.

"I don't want to know."

And he really didn't. For safety purposes.

**_Wuss._ **

_The less I know, the safer I am._

**_True._ **

"Yeah, you do."

_You'll forget everything you hear._

**_Yeah, there's a half-naked chick over there. I'll just appreciate that…_ **

_Eye contact at all times, and you can have Arthur Nicks all to yourself tonight._

**_Done._ **

* * *

"How was lunch?"

"Problem solved. And I brought you cheesecake."

"You wonderful, wonderful person." She kissed him on the cheek and took the box. "Problem solved?"

"He said he'll shut her up."

"I'll be glad." she said. "I have a meeting with the nurses."

"Oh?"

"We have a new girl. Again."

"You didn't tell me."

"You weren't here."

Damn Falcone. It must be nice to just sit there and be smug all the time. Next time he was summoned, he was sending a note stating that some people actually had to work.

**_Lies._ **

_I'll think it!_

**_Oh, someone's feeling rebellious._ **


	10. Chapter Ten

As tempting as it was, Jonathan left Zsasz alone. He had the nasty feeling that Falcone was getting suspicious of him, and he didn't want to have to get rid of him. Well, he did, but he had to wait for Dawes to be gone first. Speaking of Dawes…

The woman was not dead. Either Falcone was lazy or she was a tenacious bitch. Probably both.

**_Should've done it ourselves._ **

_I'm beginning to believe you._

He rested his head on his desk and wished everything would sort itself out. He had a shipment to pick up tomorrow night. They'd promised him rabbits. Rabbits. Humph. Better than Barbie dolls, but still.

The intercom buzzed.

"Doctor Crane, Mr. Schiff is ready for you."

Ah, Schiff, the paranoid schizophrenic. Useless as a test subject and showing no signs of recovery whatsoever.

"Send him in."

He had a minute to straighten up and fix his glasses before Schiff was escorted in.

"Good afternoon, Thomas."

No answer. This was going to be a long afternoon.

It was late. He should have gone home, but the work…he had to take notes. And then the phone rang.

"Doctor Crane."

"Speaking."

"How is the toxin coming along?"

"Swimmingly." He hated his benefactor sometimes, the way he spoke down to him. And that ridiculous name…oh, yes, the man on the other line was not Henri Ducard. His name was Ra's al Ghul, no matter how much he insisted otherwise. Jonathan's brief meeting with him and the alleged Ra's al Ghul had proven it. 'Head of the demon'…indeed.

"Good."

"Did you need something, sir?"

"How soon will it be ready?"

"We started putting it in the water supply last night."

"Good."

There was a click and Jonathan frowned. Mannerless cretin.

**_We should gas him._ **

_No. We'll regret it._

**_Aw, come on!_ **

_No._

He turned back to his notes, intending to pick up where he left off, and sighed. He'd lost his concentration now. It was time to go home.


	11. Chapter Eleven

That idiot.

That absolute _moron_!

Jonathan hadn't felt this homicidal since his senior year in high school.

"Kitty!"

She popped out, still fastening her bra.

**_How can she do that without looking?_ **

_Never mind the bra!_

"That idiot is about to destroy the entire operation."

"What?"

He thrust the paper at her with a _snap_. She took it and wandered back into the bedroom.

**_That ass._ **

_Stop it! This is a serious problem, you idiot!_

**_What? I'm just looking._ **

_Stop it._

"That fucking moron!"

The headline this morning had been: **Carmine Falcone attacked by a giant bat?**

Dawes wasn't dead and now Falcone was in custody. Something would have to be done. And was the shipment all right? Falcone's goons weren't the brightest of people, after all.

"That imbecile! I suppose he'll be looking for the insanity plea?" Oh, he hoped so. That would open all new possibilities. "Don't you give it to him, Jonathan. I'm not touching him with a ten-foot syringe."

He shrugged and glanced at the grainy picture of Falcone again. That had to be humiliating. Jonathan considered framing it.

"Giant bat, indeed…sounds like someone we need to see."

"Mm."

She appeared again, wearing the purple shirt that Scarecrow liked so much.

"Come along, we'll be late."

* * *

Jonathan did not like his phone. If he could have burned it, he would have.

"Crane."

"Hey, Doc, we're working on gettin' those rabbits for ya." One of Falcone's goons. Well, his now, seeing as Falcone was in prison. "We'll get 'em out by tomorrow night."

"You'd better."

"We will. We've got someone on it right now."

"Good."

Delays, delays. He hated Falcone for getting himself caught. If that imbecile tried to get the insanity plea out of him…

**_Then we'll give it to him. And we won't even be lying._ **

* * *

_Damn_ that phone! He was going to break it into little pieces if it didn't _stop ringing_!

"Crane."

"Doctor Crane, could you come down to the holding cells?"

"What happened?"

"Carmine Falcone slit his wrists. He won't eat. Won't stop crying. I don't believe him, but…"

"Of course." He took a deep breath, hung up, and pressed the buzzer. Falcone had just caught Jonathan Crane on a bad day. "Miss Richardson, I have to pay Mr. Falcone a visit. You're in charge until I get back."

"Sure thing, Doctor."

He picked up his case and went to the car.

_Let me handle this at first, then you can have him. Maybe he really is insane._

**_He's not. You know he's not._ **

_Still. I have to be careful._

He buckled his case into the passenger's seat and gave himself a once-over in the rearview mirror. This was going to be interesting.

* * *

"Doctor Crane, thanks for coming."

"Not at all. He cut his wrists?"

"Probably looking for the insanity plea." The woman snorted and rolled her eyes. "But if anything should happen..."

"Of course." He could feel a headache coming on. He'd have to make this quick.

Falcone was sitting in a white room, handcuffed to the table. Good.

**_Sitting duck!_ **

_Patience._

"Yeah, Doctor Crane, I can't take it anymore. The walls are closin' in. Blah, blah, blah." The smug little bastard had the audacity to snort and shake his head. "Couple more days of this food, it'll be true."

The chair was uncomfortable. Cheapskates.

"What do you want?"

"I wanna know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut."

Well. That escalated quickly.

**_Keep calm! He knows nothing._ **

"About what? You don't know anything."

That would teach him to bluff! He was probably lousy at poker.

"I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized." That was being taken care of. Strike one. "And I know about your experiments with the inmates of your nuthouse." That was bad. He would have to be silenced. "See? I don't go to business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets." He chuckled, looking very pleased with himself. "And those goons you used-I own the muscle in this town." Big mouths. They'd have to be silenced, too. What a mess…oh, well. "Now, I've been bringin' your stuff in for months. Whatever it is he's plannin', it's big. And I want in."

Oh, how cute! He could keep dreaming…for a few more minutes, anyway. Then he wouldn't be thinking anything at all.

"Well, I already know what he'll say-that we should kill you."

Last chance. Not that it mattered at this point, but…

"Nah, even he can't get me in here. Not in my town."

**_Oh, no?_ **

_Have at him. But be subtle, that woman can't suspect anything._

Scarecrow sighed and took off those annoying glasses. Shame Jon needed them. They didn't help in the intimidation department.

"Would you like to see my mask?"

_That's my line!_

**_But it works so well! You said to be subtle._ **

"I use it in my experiments." He opened the case and displayed the burlap face. It felt so nice and warm in his hands. It had been too long since he'd had his own face on. "It's probably not very frightening to a guy like you, but these crazies…they can't stand it."

_Not bad._

**_Oh, I'm not done._ **

Falcone was looking a little unnerved. Good. He'd be looking a lot unnerved by the time Scarecrow was through with his smug ass.

"So when did the nut take over the nuthouse?"

What an accurate observation. His very first! His last, too.

He put his face on-ah, just like coming home-and pressed the little button in the case.

"They scream, and they cry." He stood up and leaned close to the now-wailing idiot across from him. "Much as you are doing now."

_What's he seeing?_

**_Who cares!_ **

Karma was indeed a bitch. She just needed a little help sometimes.

Jonathan replaced the mask when the toxin had dissipated and combed his hair back into place. He was a little out of breath from all the excitement, but it had been worth it. The operation was safe. Ra's al Ghul would not have any reason to get rid of him. And that had been absolutely beautiful. It was a shame he hadn't filmed it.

"Well, he's not faking." he said regretfully, shaking his head. "Not that one. I'll have him moved to the secure wing at Arkham. I can't treat him here."

"What caused the screaming?"

He looked at her sadly, making full eye contact. That had never failed him before.

"I don't know. I wonder if maybe he thought I was someone else. Poor man."

She believed him and he went on his way, feeling very pleased with himself. Oh, Mr. Falcone would be his prized plaything. And to think, he hadn't even lied to get him!

**_Yay you, told the truth!_ **

_Yes._

**_That was fun. Let's do it again._ **


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the 'mental image'-anyone seen the Adam West Batman? Now, think of Robin from that program. Seriously, is he wearing tights or does he wax his legs? I MUST KNOW.

Kitty looked sadly at the man on the other side of the glass. He was strapped into a chair, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Poor soul.

"What a shame." she said. "Suicidal…the shock of being attacked by a bat must have gotten to him."

"Do you believe that, Miss Richardson?"

"I think we are dealing with a maniac." she said smoothly. "And I should hope that the police are doing everything in their power to find him."

The lawyer nodded and looked skeptically at his client.

"I should hope so. You'll tell me if anything changes?"

"Of course. Doctor Crane send his apologies that he couldn't be here today, but something came up. You know how it is."

She was not pleased about that, either. But he'd pulled the _eyes_ and insisted that she would disarm their visitor better. Maybe he was right-Scarecrow had been hovering for a while now. She worried about that, a little. Scarecrow would get them caught.

"Not at all. Thank you for your time."

She gave him a simpering smile. When he was gone, said smile turned into an irritated grimace. Idiot Falcone…he'd been an issue from the very beginning. And now they had to deal with those idiots that knew about the experiments. What a mess.

* * *

Things were starting to look up. The rabbits had been safely delivered to a dingy apartment in the narrows. He was on his way to pick them up. And to deal with those big-mouthed imbeciles.

**_Rabbits, Jon?_ **

_Better than Barbie dolls._

The apartment building was falling apart. Jonathan had to wonder who was responsible for the upkeep. This place was a lawsuit waiting to happen. _And_ it was filthy. He would never feel clean again.

"Get rid of all traces." he said softly. One of the men picked up the crate of rabbits and the other two started dousing the room in alcohol. Good. Very good…the window was open. Why was the window open?

That couldn't be good. He was glad Kitty had stayed at home.

He went over to look outside-maybe a homeless man had broken in-and saw nothing. Then there was a crash from the other room. Great. A cocaine addict had broken in. Oh, delays, delays…

He stepped back into the shadows, hoping the hired help would take care of it. That was their job, after all. Even if he _was_ going to gas them in a few minutes.

He'd been standing there for less than three minutes when one of said help slid across the floor and lay there, drooling and utterly dead to the world. He had to do everything, didn't he?

**_Aw, quit bitching._ **

Scarecrow didn't realize who it was until he'd gassed them. Then it registered that the flailing man was dressed like a bat.

_Busybody._

This could be fun.

"Aw, having trouble?" Where was that bottle of booze…ah. "Take a seat. Have a drink."

_Quit it with the cheesy puns._

"You look like a man who takes himself too seriously."

_Get on with it!_

**_Let me have my fun!_ **

"D'you want my opinion?"

They never did. Too bad. Now, where had that lighter gone? And why was he standing again? How rude!

"You need to…" If he'd had sunglasses, he'd have put them on. "Lighten up."

**_Fwoosh!_ **

**_Pretty lights!_ **

The flaming man staggered and suddenly fell-straight out the window. Scarecrow caught a glimpse of him falling through the rain.

_You missed one._

**_Huh._ **

_He went down in a blaze of glory._

**_Well played._ **

_Well. The men are down. Might as well finish cleaning up the evidence._

Scarecrow flicked open the lighter again and tossed it into a corner. The ugly drapes were the first to catch. By the time they were driving away, the room was a blazing inferno.

**_What does one do after killing the Batman?_ **

_We go home, shower, and hope Kitty made food._

**_I like that idea._ **

* * *

"You what?"

"I didn't go in there planning on it!"

"You set the Batman on fire!"

"Yes! I didn't have a choice!"

"Are you trying to call attention to yourself?"

"No! You weren't there, there were no other options!"

"Rubbish! There are always other options that do not involved setting the goddamn Batman on fire! They'll find him and trace him back to you!"

"I'd like to see them try."

"Whatever, Scarecrow."

The door slammed.

_Yay you. I told you to let me handle this._

**_She'll get over it._ **

_You hope._

**_She will._ **

Jonathan gave a mental shrug. Scarecrow flung himself onto the couch and earned a whine about the glasses. Crybaby.

**_There. They're on the coffee table. Happy?_ **

_We need them to see! Remember when you walked into a door?_

**_Yes…_ **

_Put them on._

**_No._ **

Stupid Batman. What kind of idiot ran around in a costume, anyway? Oh, well, it could have been worse. He could have been wearing tights.

_Didn't want that mental image, thanks._

**_What mental image…TAKE IT BACK, TAKE IT BACK!_ **

Jonathan snickered and Scarecrow huffed.

_I'll go talk to her. I'm not sleeping on the couch because you have a big mouth._

**_But, but…fine._ **

Jonathan sighed and fumbled for his glasses. Time to face the dragon.

"Kitty?"

"No."

"May I come in?"

"You may not."

He went in anyway. She was reading _The Fellowship of the Ring_ again. Boring.

"You're going to get in over your head."

"I am not." She shrugged and turned a page. He took that as a sign that he could sit down safely. "He's just some imbecile in a costume."

"Sounds like somebody else I know."

Hey! He had a mask, not a full-blown ninja suit. There was a difference.

"He's dead now, or scared off."

"Or really mad and gunning for you."

"I don't think so." She ignored him that time. "Kitty…"

"The conversation is over."

"I'm not as helpless as you think I am."

"When did I say that?"

"I can manage against a madman in a bat costume."

**_Maybe. I mean, we are kind of…small._ **

_So are cats, and cats are Satan in fur coats._

"Sure you can, love." She didn't sound convinced. "Now shut up and let me read, I'm at a good part."

He rolled his eyes but let the matter drop.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"Mr. Falcone, how are you?"

**_Oh, you are a bastard._ **

_Force of habit._

"Scarecrow…"

"He is here. You'll see him in a few minutes."

**_Hey, ba-bay!_ **

_Do shut up._

"Scarecrow…"

"Before we begin our session, I'd like to ask you-what do you think brought this on? Stress? You seem to be suffering a rather severe nervous breakdown."

The only answer he got that time was a low groan. Uncooperative little…fine.

_You deal with him._

**_Sulking, are we?_ **

_This is most irritating._

**_I'll get a reaction!_ **

_I'm sure you will._

Scarecrow removed the offending glasses and reached over for his face. Falcone spotted it and resumed twitching, this time with a little more vigor.

"Hi."

"No, no…"

_Sssspprraaayyyy!_

"NO!"

_What's he seeing?_

**_Who cares?_ **

He leaned over his hapless victim, grinning to himself. After a minute, he reached over and touched the man's cheek. That garnered a shriek of terror. Oh, it was beautiful.

_Move, I have to ask him some questions._

**_Aww._ **

_Move it._

Spoilsport.

Jonathan took the mask off, replaced his glasses and leaned forward, every inch the concerned psychiatrist. Well, apart from the smug smirk.

"What do you see, Mr. Falcone?"

"S-Scarecrow!"

"Obviously. What else…"

"Doctor Crane!"

Oh, _now_ what? It had better be good, or he had just found himself a new subject!

"What is it?"

The man shrank back a bit. He loved it when they did that. Meek little Jonathan Crane was now the terror of Gotham! Well, some of it, anyway. He loved the role reversal.

"R-Rachel Dawes…"

**_That BITCH! Let me at her, I'll rip her throat out and shove it up her nose!_ **

_It won't fit, you idiot. But the sentiment is nice._

"What about her."

"Sh-she's coming here."

"Is that so?" He sighed and looked back at the now-crying Falcone. "Take him upstairs and put him back in his cell. Then get back to work. I take it she's coming no matter what I say?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

Sir! Oh, he liked that! He was keeping this one.

"Fine. Just get going."

Once the man was out of earshot, he picked up his phone.

"Kitty? We have a small problem."

"What now?"

"Our favourite assistant DA is coming."

"Are you serious?"

"I'm always serious."

"I'll try to stall her."

"Thank you."

He hung up and turned around. Damn Dawes…this was ridiculous. It was late at night! For all she knew, he was at home, sleeping.

**_We'll have to shut her up, Jon._ **

_Yes._

* * *

Kitty is pretty sure it's not normal to imagine anvils dropping from the sky and crushing the woman in her office. It's still a nice idea, though.

"Doctor Crane will be here shortly."

"I need to see Falcone."

Well! Hadn't this woman ever heard of social niceties? Barbarian.

"Very well." She got up and shooed her out of the doorway. "Right this way, Miss Dawes."

"Thank you."

Good. There was no reason to be rude. After all, she was the one that had insisted on coming down here at this hour.

Falcone was in his chair again, safely restrained and very visible behind the Plexiglas. There. Now would she go away? And where the hell was Jonathan? He could deal with her. He was the director, after all.

"What medi…"

"Miss Dawes." About damn time! "This is most irregular. I have nothing further to add to the report I filed with the judge."

That wasn't going to make her go away, didn't he know that? There was only one thing that would drive her off now. They were going to have to do a lot of BS-ing to explain this away. Oh, well…overworked, missing boss, friend back from the dead…poor thing. Tsk, tsk.

"I have questions about the report."

Typical. But they couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Or been answered over the phone?

"Such as?"

She knew that tone. That was the 'let-me-out-Jonny-I-wanna-play' tone. Great. The last they needed was Scarecrow calling attention to himself.

"Isn't it convenient for a fifty-two year old man with no history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown, _just_ when he's about to be indicted?"

"Well, as you can see for yourself, there is nothing 'convenient' about his symptoms."

_Scarecrow, don't you dare! You will be sleeping on the couch for the rest of your natural life if you fuck this up! And then some!_

She'd at least take that silly mask away.

"Scare…crow…"

Shit.

"What's scarecrow?"

There was a sudden gleam in his eyes, but it was gone in a flash, to be replaced by Jonathan having a nerd moment. It would have been adorable if the situation wasn't so serious.

"Patients suffering delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor, usually one conforming to Jungian archetypes. In this case, a scarecrow."

She was reasonably certain that most of that was word-for-word from a textbook. No wonder people always wanted to deal with her first. She had better people skills.

"Outside, he was a giant. In here, only the mind can grant you power."

He sounded far too gleeful. That was not helpful.

"You enjoy the reversal."

Point proved. When this was over, they were going to have a long talk about dealing with people and hiding things a little better.

"I respect the mind's power over the body. It's why I do what I do."

Well, there was no need to be honest about it. That was not helping. She should have just dealt with this, said he had the stomach flu or something. _God._

"I do what I do to put thugs like Falcone behind bars, not in therapy." She straightened up. Was she leaving? "I want my own assessment. Find out what you put him on."

"First thing in the morning."

"No. Tonight. I've already paged Doctor Leland."

Fuck. She had to go. There was just no way around it.

"As you wish. Miss Richardson, do you have an elevator key? Mine's been misplaced."

He wasn't. Really? Really? Fine. But this was a bad idea.

"Yes."

"Where are we going?"

Nobody answered her until the elevator had landed.

"This way, please. There's something I think you should see."

The doors did not want to give at first, but then they swung open. The look on her face would have been priceless if Kitty had had the time to enjoy it.

"This is where we make the medicine." Jonathan was gone now. Shit. "Perhaps you should have some. Clear your head."

Dawes made a bolt for it. Kitty finally gave into the urge to facepalm.

"Do you always have to be so dramatic?"

"Yeah."

"Whatever. I swear, worse than a teenage girl…"

"Hey!"

"You know it's true."

He rolled his eyes and opened his case. She wasn't going anywhere, after all. The elevator wouldn't move without a key. Safety measures and all.

"I'm not that dramatic."

"Yes, you are. Shoo."

Three minutes later, there was a short scream from the end of the hall, followed by a request for henchmen. Really? This was not a comic book. Nobody had 'henchmen' in real life.

All the same, two went and came back, carrying a lifeless-looking Rachel Dawes between them. Oh, good, she wasn't a screamer. Kitty hated those-they always gave her a headache. They dumped the woman on a makeshift table and got out of the way. Smart bunch.

"Who knows you're here?" There was no answer and Scarecrow threw a bit of a hissy fit. **_"WHO KNOWS?"_**

Then the lights went out.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. The last chapter was all, 'I wanna be an epic novel!' and I had to beat it into stopping.

Jonathan wrestled his way to the front and pulled the mask off. There was only one reason the lights would be off.

**_He wants a rematch?_ **

_What…never mind._

"He's here." He really should put his glasses back on, but they'd been misplaced in the excitement.

"Who?"

Idiot. Didn't he watch the news?

"The bat-man."

A murmur of panic spread through the men. That wasn't good. That would have to stop right now. There were what, twenty of them? Fifteen, at least. And only one Batman. So the lights were out. So what?

"What do we do?"

"What anyone does when a prowler comes around." Apparently nobody knew what that was. Cavemen. Scratch that-they were an insult to cavemen everywhere. "Call the police."

"You want the cops here?"

What had he _just_ said?

"At this point, they can't stop us." He gestured towards the hole in the pipes. "But the bat-man has a talent for disruption." Right on cue, something fell over on the upper level. If that was expensive, he was going to be upset. "If we force him outside, the police will take him down. Go."

Nobody went.

"Those things they say about him…can he really fly?"

Of course not. The only way man could fly was in an airplane.

"We'll find out, won't we?"

That got the question-asker to move, running towards the steps. A thought struck him. The police got crank calls all the time, and the man was not the most eloquent of people.

"Kitty? Would you do me a favor?"

"What."

"Go up there and call the police. They might come a little faster if it's not a cretin on the other line."

"But…"

"Sound distraught, if you must. Cry. Anything. But get them down here to take care of the flying rodent." Something else broke. "Hurry up."

She didn't like it, he could tell, but it got her out of the way. And it probably would get the police here faster. Police always responded faster if it was a crying female on the line.

He would let his men deal with this for the time being. They were used to being clobbered and besides, he rather enjoyed not having a broken neck.

He put the mask back on and got out of the way, waiting for an easy shot. The Batman was obviously mentally disturbed. It wouldn't take much to explain away his sudden breakdown.

Ah! There he was…was that a cape? Really? A cape? How sad.

There was a sudden wail as one of the men was thrown out of the way and Scarecrow took over.

**_I am a crouching tiger!_ **

_Never say that again…now! Do it now!_

They sprang…and found their arm in a vice grip. Ow. Ow.

**_Let go, dick! I need that arm!_ **

_Don't breathe!_

The mask was ripped off and Scarecrow turned tail.

**_Talk him down._ **

_Thanks._

"Taste of your own medicine, doctor?"

What…no!

_ Sssppprrraaayyy! _

The man in a bat costume was gone, only to be replaced by Granny's decomposing head on a demon's body. Oh, dear god…

**_It's a hallucination._ **

_No it is not! Make it go away, make it go away!_

**_Repeat after me: ha-lu-ci-na-tion._ **

_Scarecrow, please!_

"Who are you working for?"

The hand around his throat was rough and scratchy and he tried to pull back. That only got him slammed against the wall. Perhaps the wall would swallow him and he would be safe.

"Crane!"

"Ra's." he whispered. Maybe it would go away now. "Ra's al Ghul."

The monster before him shook him roughly.

"Ra's al Ghul is dead! Who are you working for?"

Scarecrow finally took mercy on him and took over.

Jonny's vocal cords were paralyzed with fear and it was an effort to stop his panicked yammering.

_Stop it make it stop make it leave Scarecrow PLEASE!_

"Doctor Crane isn't here right now, but if you'd like to make an appointment…"

**_ WHAM! _ **

**_Ow._ **

Then there was nothing.

* * *

"Say that again!"

The man in front of her shrank back but repeated his sentence.

"D-Doctor Crane is in police custody."

Son of a…she was calm. Deep breaths.

"Thank you."

"Miss Richardson?"

"Get out. I need to make a phone call."

He was only too happy to go. Kitty sank down in her desk chair and rubbed her temples. Goddammit. She had to do everything herself, didn't she? They would be talking about this…oh, who was she kidding?

"I need to speak with Henri Ducard. Yes, now. I don't care what he's doing. Get him on the bloody line!"

"Hello, Miss Richardson."

"Mr. Ducard." It was an effort to keep her voice calm. "We have run into a small problem."

"Oh?"

"The Batman arrived here tonight and threw things into, ah, disarray."

"I see."

"You might want to hurry up."

"Thank you for the warning, Miss Richardson. May I speak to Doctor Crane?"

"He's unavailable."

"I see. Good bye."

He hung up on her. Prat.

Now! To get out of the now-bat-infested asylum. She'd take her chances with the police, for her own protection. Anything to avoid that nutter in a bat suit.

The police believed her when she said that she'd known nothing about her employer's activities. They reassured her that she would be quite safe at the station, away from the vigilante. It was a wonder what a few tears could accomplish.

She was wrapped in a hideous orange blanket, nursing a cup of tea, when she spotted an officer she recognized. That was one of Ducard's men. About time!

* * *

"What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get your toxins into the air?"

Scarecrow knew, and if the little man had said 'please', he might have answered. But he hadn't said please, and he'd stuck them in this uncomfortable straitjacket and taken his face away.

"Scarecrow…scarecrow…"

"Crane…"

His name was not Crane, but something told him that nobody cared. Humph.

"It's too late." He grinned and squirmed a bit, trying to loosen the sleeves. His wrist hurt where Batman had grabbed it. "You can't stop it now."

The cop snorted in disgust and tossed his face to another officer. Hey! Didn't he know to be careful with that? How would he like it if somebody tossed _his_ face around like that?

_S-Scarecrow?_

**_Welcome back to the land of the living, Jonny._ **

_Where are we?_

**_The police station. Those assholes took my face._ **

_Head hurts._

**_Yeah._ **

_Where are my glasses?_

**_No idea._ **

Jonathan quieted again. Probably for the best. The kid was suffering mental exhaustion.

He'd lost track of time when his face landed in his lap and he looked up. A man he sort-of recognized was standing over him.

"Time to play."

"Get me out of this."

Ahh. The buckles were undone and he was finally allowed to stretch his arms. Ohh, that felt good. Although…he did look rather dashing in it. He would keep it. Now! Where was a knife?

All he could find was a pair of scissors, but they worked just as well. Once the sleeves were cut just so, he put his mask back on and went to find Kitty.

She was curled up in somebody's office, wrapped in a shock blanket.

"Hi."

"Hullo, Scarecrow."

_Put me on._

**_And have you pass out? Hell no! Go back to sleep._ **

_Take a message?_

**_No._ **

"Are you okay?"

"Fine. Jonny can't come out right now. He's getting over a rather violent freak-out, courtesy of Gotham's own flying rodent."

She did not look happy. Too bad. They had things to do.

"We can't go home."

"Home? Who's going home? I wanna play."

"Scarecrow…"

"I will play, and you can't stop me!"

"What are you…"

There was the sound of screams from outside and a most delicious shiver ran down his spine. He needed to be out there, reveling in the panic!

_Let's just go home._

**_I think that toxin addled your head, Jon._ **

_Mm._

**_Go nighty-night. You can come out later._ **

_What are you doing?_

**_Causing mayhem and wreaking havoc._ **

_But, but…_

He ignored his whiny alter and started for the doorway. Kitty came with him-he'd known she would.

"Please don't get us killed."

"Would I do that, sweetheart?"

"Maybe."

The lack of faith wounded him. Now! He did not want to wander around Gotham on foot. He might be run over by the hordes.

Ah, perfect. A police horse. It was panicking and trying to remove the body of its rider from the stirrup. Jonny had ridden horses before. Hopefully some of that muscle memory still remained.

"Um, no."

"What?"

"I am not getting up there. You know I hate heights."

"It's not that high."

"It's high enough!"

_Don't let her fall off._

**_I won't, I won't. God._ **

He ignored her protests, got on, and yanked her up behind him. She promptly grabbed onto him hard enough to hurt.

"Care to squeeze a little lower?"

_Shut up, will you?_

**_I had to ask._ **

That got a shaky laugh out of her, at least.

"No."

"Damn."

_If you drop her, I will kill you._

**_And yourself._ **

_Medication, my dear alter, works wonders._

**_I won't drop her._ **

Where to go, where to go…someone was screaming over there. He may as well pay them a visit.

**_How do I make it work?_ **

_Nudge the ribs. For god's sake, don't beat it over the head or anything._

The still-terrified horse didn't notice the first nudge, but it noticed the second one and got moving. Owowowow.

**_Make it stop!_ **

_Tug on the reins. Or let me drive._

The horrid bumping stopped and he sighed with relief. Gentle nudge this time. Kitty was still clinging to his ribs. That still hurt.

Now! To follow the sound of screams.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try really, really hard not to spam you guys, so hear me out. Those of you with a Facebook should check out the 'Too Young To Wed' page, which is dealing with ending child marriage. Because seriously? They're six year-old girls. What the hell, man.

Kitty squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to listen to the screaming. She'd put on a surgical mask and wrapped her scarf around her mouth, but the fact that she was rather, well…high…was not good. It didn't help that they were going rather fast.

A familiar voice reached her ears and she froze. She'd lived? That bitch had lived? Could today get _any_ worse?

"It's okay, nothing's gonna hurt you…"

The horse took a sharp turn and she squeaked.

"Of course they are!" Ham.

"Crane?"

"No! Scarecrow!"

Dawes had apparently made a run for it, because the horse gave chase.

_Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop…_

"There's nothing to fear but fear itself! I'm just here to hel…"

**_ZAP!_ **

This time the screaming was coming from in front of her. What the…a taser.

A taser? Really?

The horse was panicking and fleeing in the opposite direction. Scarecrow was still wailing about his eyes.

_Shut everything out. Concentrate on what's in front of you._

She couldn't really see, but that couldn't be helped. They'd have to go back to Arkham-it was the closest place. Then she'd deal with whatever damage the taser had done and go from there.

Reins, reins…ah! Reins. First things first-slow the fuck down.

She yanked on them a bit harder than necessary and the horse leaned back. Shitshitshit.

"No! Bad horsy! Just stop moving!"

The horse stopped dead in its tracks. Good. Now, where were they?

Arkham, Arkham…there it was. Okay.

"Scarecrow? I need you to please shut up and maybe scrunch down a little so I can see."

"That bitch tasered me in the face!"

Yes, she was well aware. And she would panic on his behalf once they were out of the street.

"Either be quiet or put Jonathan back on. And maybe close your eyes so you don't cause more damage."

"I can't even open them!"

That couldn't be good…left turn.

"Please shut up so I can concentrate."

Right turn here, if she was not very much mistaken.

"Tasered! In the face!"

"Scarecrow, be quiet!"

Ah! Here they were, at the now mostly-empty asylum.

_Hello, ground. I'll never leave you again._

"Get down, love. We're going in and then we'll see what we can do."

"I won't. I can't see anything."

"Come along."

She grabbed his hand and tugged him inside. Once they were safely locked in her office, she tugged the mask off.

"Hey!"

"Hush."

The mask was singed, but it seemed to have taken the brunt of the taser. Good.

"Okay…I think you want to avoid using your eyes too much. Yeah?"

"I can't believe this."

"I'm not thrilled either, sunshine. You'll complain the entire time."

"Probably."

Well, at least he admitted it.

"Go to sleep, love."

"I'm filled with rage!"

"You'll be filled with sedatives if I catch you trying to get up." she warned, filling a needle to make her point.

Scarecrow, ever the cheeky monkey, put one foot on the floor. She doubted he was expecting her to straddle him and shove his sleeve up.

"I don't want a shot!"

"Too bad! You're off the wall!"

"But, but…"

To his credit, he didn't throw her off when she injected him. That was good. He was probably more sore from that taser than she thought.

"Just go to sleep, okay?"

"I don't wanna."

"I'm not moving until you do."

Eventually, either drugs or sheer exhaustion won out and he was dead to the world.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_"Granny, please…I didn't, I didn't!"_

_"Wicked boy! Move!"_

_"Granny!"_

_And the birds come down in an endless spiral, the hellish flapping of their wings drowned out by their stabbing beaks and scratching claws…_

"Jonathan!"

Couldn't see. Eyes hurt. Breathing difficult.

_Batman._

"Jonathan?" The voice above him was quieter now. "Jonathan, are you awake?" When he didn't answer, she tried again. "Scarecrow?"

"N-no." Oww. Why did his throat hurt so much?

**_From screaming like a ninny when we got tased._ **

_What?_

**_Sorry. It hurt._ **

_You ruined my voice out of pain? You should have let me handle things! I'm immune to pain!_

**_Says the one who whined about a paper cut for two days._ **

That was uncalled for.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore." Taser…he didn't remember the taser. It probably explained the soreness. Well, that and being tossed around like a rag doll. "What time is it?"

"Ten AM, Tuesday, October 21st."

Wait. Hadn't it been Monday? Oh, god, what had happened? What had Scarecrow done now?

"Tuesday?"

"Mm-hm." He was aware that she was looking him over. "Do you remember anything?"

"Batman." he rasped. "Toxin."

"Yeah. Take a sip."

Ugh. Water. _Stale_ water. All the same, it did soothe his throat a little.

"Thank you." he mumbled. "Where are we?"

"Arkham. Everyone had to clear out because of the toxin, but we can't stay for much longer."

"Oh."

There was a fluttering from outside and he flinched.

"Just bats, love. Don't ask, I don't know. They can't get in."

He yawned and settled back onto what he vaguely recognized as Kitty's office couch. Sleepy…head hurt…slight feeling of paranoia…

The paranoia was probably a lingering effect of the drug. He was lucky he'd been exposed to it before-once on purpose and several times by accident. It could have been worse. It could have been permanent.

"Where's my glasses?"

"Right here, but you can't have them."

"You're all right?"

"Yes. Go back to sleep, love, you're worn out."

In more ways than one.

He was now aware that his head was on Kitty's lap and that there was a blanket around his shoulders. His eyes still hurt.

She ruffled his hair and he yawned. Everything was ruined now. Everything. They wouldn't be able to go home, they wouldn't be able to stay here…there was nothing to be done. And it hadn't really been worth it, in the end. Well, it had, because he'd finished his toxin, but…

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Getting us into this."

"Oh, for…just go to sleep, love."

He huddled into the blanket.

"Sorry, Kitty."

"Sweet dreams."

His limbs felt heavy and he wondered if she'd drugged him earlier. She must have-he felt like he had after his appendix had been removed-groggy and a little dead.

It wasn't long before he felt the walls close in around him


	17. Chapter Seventeen

He could see again! Not very far, and not for very long, but he could see!

They had to leave today, while it was still light out. He had no intention of running into the Batman again, not until he was better prepared. The police he could handle. He had a plan to deal with them. Kitty wasn't going to like it, but it couldn't be helped.

"You're joking."

"No."

"Why do I have to be a hostage?"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"Stealth."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. No reason to damage them further, not when they were starting to heal again.

"No. They're everywhere right now. Sorry, Kitty, but it can't be helped."

"You owe me so much for making be a damsel in distress." she grouched. "So, so much."

There were voices outside. So soon? Ugh. He'd been comfortable on the couch, if not a little hungry. He did not care for the Cholesterol Crunchies or whatever those pizza things were called. Yech.

Mask, mask…ah! Mask.

_I will do the talking. You will be quiet._

**_Whatever._ **

_I mean it._

**_Fine._ **

"Miss Richardson, I will not hurt you if you cooperate."

She shot him a dirty look but let him yank her out the door.

"Please…just let me go, I won't t-tell anyone you were here…"

"No, no, call it insurance…"

"Crane!"

"Help, please!"

"Be quiet!"

He found himself looking at several of Gotham's 'finest'. There were more than he'd thought. Oh, well.

"Let her go, Crane."

They'd never been taught manners, apparently. What was humanity coming to?

"You won't shoot me." _Scarecrow, get back in there!_ "You might hit her by mistake." He began backing up, making sure that they could see his trusty canister. "Come along, Miss Richardson."

"Let go of me, you sorry bastard!"

Did she have to struggle quite so convincingly? Maybe he should have thought this through a little further.

**_"Move!"_ **

_I had everything under control!_

**_Uh-huh. Suure you did._ **

Sure enough, the police did not fire on them. Of course they didn't. They might hit the poor, innocent woman.

"You are going to let me walk out of here. You're not going to follow me. If I feel like it, I'll let her go once I'm very sure you're out of the way. Is that clear?"

"Crane…"

That did it. He was not going to be mistaken for Jonathan Crane any longer.

"My name is Scarecrow! Fucking Scarecrow! I am not Jonathan Crane!" He yanked Kitty back a bit harder than was necessary and kicked a door open. That got him a bruised toe and a, _Can you not inflict further injury on us? Thanks._ from Jonathan.

Wimp.

"Let her go!"

But he was already behind another door and running for the exit. There was a 'hidden' room around here somewhere-a remnant of days gone by. Time for a disappearing act.

"You can let go now."

Wait, wait…

_Janitor's closet. Small door behind the brooms._

He'd been getting there! God!

"Scarecrow…"

Hah! Door. They were practically home free.

"Let go!"

This time she jerked her wrist free and rubbed it. He hadn't been gripping it that hard.

"This way."

He wasn't happy when she grabbed his hand and led him into a dark, crumbling room. It probably wasn't that dark, but his eyes were starting to hurt again.

_I told you I could handle it._

**_Whatever._ **

"Um…here."

"Where are we going?"

"Watch your tone." She didn't sound that angry. "There's an abandoned building-it used to be an apartment complex."

_YES. Bed._

"Fine."

"Any better ideas?"

"…no."

"Didn't think so."

"Come on, then."

It was a long walk, long enough to make Scarecrow wonder if they were lost. It didn't help that he couldn't see a damn thing, and that Kitty had tied her scarf over his eyes to make sure he didn't try.

_You would._

**_So would you._ **

_Of course._

There was the sound of a rusty door opening and closing, and then silence. Well, almost silence. He could hear rats scurrying, but that was it.

"There's stairs. Try not to trip."

**_Your turn._ **

_My turn-! You just want me to trip!_

**_No, but I don't wanna trip._ **

"Kitty…"

"Step."

Luckily it was only the first step. Why did she have to have such short legs?

"That was not a step!"

"You have freakishly long limbs, don't blame me."

Humph. Freakishly long limbs, indeed!

"Let's try this again." This time she stepped back to hold him up-or, more accurately, restrict him from taking a full step. "Step."

"I feel like a drunk person."

"You're not as annoying as most drunk people."

What…never mind. He'd take that as a good thing.

"Step."

That bitch Dawes…she would regret this if it was the last thing he did. Her and that idiot calling himself the Batman.

"I need my toxins."

"You need nothing of the kind. Step. You are going to lie down and not use your eyes. Then we will have a nice, long discussion about our future…prospects. Step."

How did people get anywhere taking steps this tiny?

"But…"

"Landing! You can take normal steps now."

Hallelujah. That had been miserable.

"Where are we going?"

"Right…in…this one. All right, love, lie down."

There was suddenly a half-rotted mattress under him. It smelled and he was positive it was nowhere near sanitary. He couldn't be picky at this point, but he didn't have to like it.

"Ugh."

"I know, I know. It could be worse."

"How?"

"It could have bedbugs."

Bedbugs! It probably did have bedbugs!

_I hate everyone._

"Something's on me."

"Nothing is on you. You're being paranoid."

"But…"

"Go to sleep."

"What are you doing?"

"I am going out to fetch a newspaper. Don't move. If I come back here and find you've broken your neck, I am going to be very upset."

Sleep, indeed. This mattress was almost certainly crawling with living things.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poe is no longer in my employ. There was a...misunderstanding. He made a fine subject, though. You should have heard the screams...

Jonathan yawned and stretched out, feeling the floor under his spine. Kitty thought he was being silly, but the floor was safer than the bed. Who knew what lived in there?

"You're going to get a crick."

"And you're going to get bitten."

He knew she was rolling her eyes at him, but they'd see who was right.

There was a noise downstairs and he scrambled up, hand shooting out for the remains of his toxin. If the police had finally found them, they were going to be in for a very nasty surprise.

"Erm, love…"

"I'm not going down there. I just don't want to be surprised. You know I hate surprises."

"True enough."

Whoever it was was far from subtle. Probably not the police then. Perhaps it was a homeless person.

The noises were now out in the hallway. Homeless, it had to be. The police _never_ made that much noise, and the Batman would have come in through the window.

He dragged himself up and flung open the door.

"Agh!"

"Don'thurtmedon'thurtme!"

"Doc?"

Wait. He knew these people. One of them was the night guard that supervised the inmates when he wasn't there, and the other two were fairly harmless schizophrenics. Oh, this was just fantastic, wasn't it?

"Mr. Poe." He let his arm drop. "What a…pleasant…surprise."

"Doctor Crane! I'll be damned." _You will be, if you cross me._ "Seems we've got a bit of a problem."

"Obviously."

"So. Um. I found a couple of the boys wandering around out there."

"So I see." They were not coming in here, and that was final. "And you just happened across this abandoned building, am I correct?"

"Yeah." Poe crossed his arms. "So, Doc…about the Batman."

" ** _Don't_** mention the name."

He was pleased to see the man shrink back a little. Good.

"Sorry." He swallowed. "So. Um. Word on the street is that you're a wanted man."

"Is that so?" He moved the canister further into his hand, quite prepared to teach this idiot a lesson. Unfortunately, Poe did not miss the movement.

"I-I'm not gonna turn you in! I didn't even know you were here!" They'd see about that. "Th-thing is…is that, well…I'm kinda screwed, too. And since you're here, and me n' the boys is here…"

"Are. You _are_ here."

"Right. M-maybe you could use the help?"

He considered the offer. On one hand, he could gas them and get rid of them. On the other hand, he could use the help. Errand runners, someone to deal with the police…or the Batman.

"Fine. Find a room, if you like. But if I find out you've brought the police here, or if you've opened your big mouth to the wrong people…"

"S-sure thing! No prob."

"Good."

He shut the door and flopped down on the floor again.

"You have a way with words, love."

"Mm."

"Now what?"

"No idea." He yawned and let the canister fall. It rolled off somewhere. Ah, well. He'd find it later. "Wait. Maybe leave town, I don't know."

He didn't really like that idea. Where would they go, back to Georgia? There was no way in hell that he was going back there. Besides, he liked Gotham. It may have been a grimy city, and its crime rate may have been inordinately high, but he liked it. It was home. More home than Arlen had ever been, anyway.

Besides, he'd gone to far too much effort to avoid picking up that ridiculous accent. He was not going to ruin it now.

"Leave and go where?"

"I don't know."

"Thought as much." Hey! "I'm going out for a bit."

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

She was upset with him. He wondered why. Women. They could hold a grudge for ages and never tell you why.

**_When did you learn so much about women?_ **

_I could ask you the same question._

**_…dammit._ **

He fumbled for his canister, found it, and set it where he could reach it. Once he was satisfied with its placement, he folded his arms over his face and closed his eyes.

He did not sleep.

* * *

Kitty hadn't actually gone anywhere but down the hall. She was annoyed with him, but not that annoyed.

Well, this was an interesting development. She had not been expecting hired help. It was nice to have it, it wasn't that, it was just…

Scarecrow was a reckless bastard. Now that they did have the help, she didn't trust him not to run off and do something stupid.

Hm.

She rubbed her head and wondered if Poe had been telling the truth. She'd never particularly liked the man-he was always trying to peek down her shirt, the creep-but that didn't mean he was lying. After all, nice, sane people didn't usually associate with a man wearing a potato sack on his head.

Still.

She supposed she should go back in there, maybe have a little chat with their new employees. And hope Scarecrow hadn't gotten any ideas in the meantime.

She stepped back out into the hall and wandered back to their room. Jonathan was still lying on the floor, his arms folded over his face.

"I don't like him."

"Hm?"

"Poe. I don't like him."

"Why?"

"I've never liked him, and I don't trust him."

He shrugged and reached behind him for the mask.

"Then we kill him. Call him in."

"Don't do anything drastic! I just don't trust him, that's all. Just keep an eye on him, that's all I'm asking."

"Fine."

She could hear them moving around in the rooms across the hall. They didn't seem to be talking. Good. Hopefully the two Poe had brought with him were manageable. She didn't really want to deal with the bodies.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

So. Their benefactor was dead. The newspapers had run something about an Henri Ducard being found dead in the ruins of the monorail. Jonathan was not sorry. It was always the same-some idiot was at the top of the ladder, and then somebody pushed the ladder over.

He'd been debating his next move for several days now. He had no job, no flat, no nothing, really. If he was stupid enough to get caught, they would lock him in his own asylum. He supposed that would be poetic, but it didn't sound particularly fun.

The idea hit him at nine AM on a Saturday, while he was watching the neighborhood junkies stumble around in the alley.

Drug dealing.

Of sorts, anyway.

He had nothing better to do, and he had no intention of letting his creation go to waste. After all, he had people to sort out. The Batman, for ruining everything. The police, for manhandling him like some common criminal. And anyone stupid enough to get in his way.

Everyone, really.

"Kitty?"

"Yes?"

"What do you think about drug dealing?"

"Why?"

"We have to do something besides hide in here all day."

She came over and looked at the still-stumbling junkies.

"You're not selling them cocaine, are you."

"Not exactly." He stretched. "I won't be selling them anything until I make a little business arrangement." She gave him a _look_. "There's a man who comes here ever Sunday at noon. I think we need to talk to him."

"I hope you know what you're doing, love."

He always knew what he was doing! Well, almost always.

"Of course." He stood up and went to pick up his canister. It was his last one, and he wasn't quite sure how to remedy that. Hopefully his new contact-if he got one-would be willing to import the little flowers. He would work on the specifics of that later.

"Where is Poe?"

"No idea."

Hm. He needed Poe for tomorrow. How very irritating.

"I'm going to go and find him."

Poe was lounging in a room down the hall. Jonathan had no idea what had become of the schizophrenics, and he didn't particularly care. They'd turn up eventually. Maybe.

"I need you to do a job for me."

"Sure thing, Doc."

He swallowed his irritation. The man was an idiot, after all.

"There is a man that comes here every week. He's usually dressed in a baseball hat, ripped jeans, and a rather…shiny…jacket."

"You want me to bring him up?"

Well. Perhaps he wasn't an idiot, after all.

"Yes."

"Sure thing."

"He'll be there tomorrow at noon. Don't hurt him if you can help it, I need to talk to him."

"No prob, Doc."

If he heard that word one more time, he was going to lose it.

"I'm sure it won't be." he said. "Good afternoon."


	20. Chapter Twenty

At one sharp the next afternoon, the Scarecrow found himself dealing with a crying, would-be punk kid. Sheesh. One look at the mask-he wasn't even drugged!-and he'd started wailing. Perhaps he'd been in the Narrows that night.

"Who are you working for?"

More crying. How annoying. Scarecrow liked screams. He did not like tears. Tears either made everything wet (most people) or manipulated him into doing things (Kitty).

_If you rough him up, please don't hurt us. I like not having bruises._

**_I'm not wasting my time. Where's the henchman you hired?_ **

_Henchman? Nobody uses…whatever. Down the hall._

He debated it and eventually settled on grabbing the man's shirt-it was bedazzled! How sad-and pulling him out of the chair.

"Who are you working for?"

"Th-the Chechen." A choked sob. "Please, man, lemme go, I didn't do nothin'…"

_My ears are sobbing at his appalling grammar._

**_Whatever._ **

"And where can I find him?"

"H-he likes this Italian place downtown."

"What place?" More tears. **_"What place?"_**

"Carrabo's!"

"Thank you."

"Y-you'll lemme go?"

"No. You'll be a lovely subject for later. Poe!" A moment later, the door opened. "Take this man down to the basement and lock him up. I'll need him."

"Sure, boss-man."

_God, that's annoying._

**_Who cares! It's an underling!_ **

Scarecrow wiggled his fingers at the man as he was being dragged away. Carrabo's, was it? He hadn't been there in ages. It was pricy, far, and not particularly delicious. The only thing going for it was the extensive booze menu, which Jonathan wouldn't even touch. Wimp.

_I'm usually driving._

**_Still!_ **

_Go away._

Fine.

Jonathan pulled the mask off and replaced his glasses.

"Kitty?"

"What?"

"How about a dinner date tomorrow?"

"What?"

"I suppose you could call it a business meeting." he picked up his canister. "A very interesting business meeting, indeed."


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to unforeseen circumstances, he escaped my wrath. These days, I don't have to be nice. So if anyone gets ideas, they will immediately find themselves in a rather nasty state of mind. They might also find themselves missing a few fingers, if I let Scarecrow play with knives.-Dr. Crane

"So. You have drugs?"

"There is nothing else like my compound on the market. I made it myself." Ugh. They called this garlic bread? "And, more importantly, the Batman doesn't know about me."

What? A few little white lies wouldn't hurt.

The Chechen-Jonathan never could get the man's real name-took a long drink.

"Good." Another drink. "That's four of my men he's found this month. No one will work for me."

"I will." Jonathan forced a smile. "This will take you places. Very interesting places. All I need is your assistance in bringing in some shipments from the east."

"What?"

"Little blue flowers." Now the smile was genuine. "The men at the docks will remember my name, I'm sure. We're well acquainted."

"Done." That was it? That was easy. "One of my men will make the arrangements with you."

"Thank you."

They stood up to go. He supposed he should shake hands. Ugh. Touching. Spare him the agony.

"Thank you for seeing us."

The Chechen

_I will find out his name, and I will blackmail him with it if necessary!_

nodded, reached over, and placed a kiss on Kitty's hand.

**_Let me at him, I'll tear him apart!_ **

_Not in public, and not right now. Later, I promise._

"Doctor. Miss Richardson."

Jonathan made a mental note to come back at a later date to show the Chechen exactly what his compound did. That would teach him to keep his hands-and everything else-to himself.

**_Dibbs._ **

_We'll see. I wonder what he's afraid of?_

**_I know what he will be afraid of, when I'm done with him._ **

_We. When we are done with him._

Soon. Very soon. It wouldn't take long to establish himself in this new life. Then they could get rid of their temporary benefactor.

Jonathan was very much looking forward to that.


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end...my only friend, the end...

Maybe he shouldn't be buying from the guy wearing a potato sack. But he was desperate, and he heard this guy had the best. Besides, his regular dealer was in traction, thanks to some nut in a cape. Poor bastard.

"So, um…this'll work, right? Like my old stuff?"

"Of course."

"Cuz my old stuff took me places, man. Good places."

"Oh, this will take you places. Here, try a bit now. On the house."

Hey, maybe this guy was all right! He probably just had scarring or something. Who cared? This was Gotham, home of the crazies.

He offered his new friend some-more out of politeness than willingness to share-and was pleased when he declined. Good. More for him, then.

Oh, shit.

His feet went out from under him and the Scarecrow

_Nonono Scarecrow no!_

loomed up. The sack moved and something with long legs came out of the mouth.

"I said it would take you places. I never said they'd be places you wanted to go."

And then the mouth swallowed him whole.

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why you never buy drugs from men in potato sacks. Those wishing to proceed in order should go to 'Buyer Beware' (Located in 'Phobias'), which takes place during The Dark Knight's opening scene. Happy screaming.
> 
> -Scary


End file.
